An Unlikely Master
by The Dark Lady Chaos
Summary: He stood silently in the void, still waiting. His posture remained relaxed, but his jaw was tense, and his eyes flicked around the room unrestrained; it was just so white. “Tom Riddle.” He whipped around, violently, a jerking reaction; he hated it. “I do not answer to that name.” He growled. The figure smirked, not that it was physically


**Disclaimer** : It is with deepest regret that I must inform you that I do not own the Harry Potter universe, or anything in it. The most that I can say is that I own the characters of this story's personalities.

He stood silently in the void, still waiting. His posture remained relaxed, but his jaw was tense, and his eyes flicked around the room unrestrained; it was just so white.

"Tom Riddle."

He whipped around, violently, a jerking reaction; he hated it.

"I do not answer to that name." He growled.

The figure smirked, not that it was physically visible, but Voldemort got the idea that the hooded man was inwardly laughing at him.

"But you just did."

He wanted to snarl, Perhaps lash out, but he didn't, already wary.

"Who are you?"

"You already know who I am."

He snapped in irritation. "I don't. I asked for a reason didn't I?There was nothing, and then I was here."

The figure looked up, irritation melding onto his lips.

"You mean that you died, and then you were here."

"I am not dead! Death can not touch me! I am immortal!"

The words weren't quite firm though, and the figure looked at him in a way, as if it knew he was trying to convince himself of this as well.

An aura of something that Voldemort would describe as an eye roll surged forth, and suddenly the man moved, he didn't even see it until the hood was brushing against his features, and hands were clutching his throat, making it impossible to breath; the true movement was empty, and it lacked any real emotion.

"Do not be a fool Tom Riddle."

The figure released him, swiftly putting itself back into its previous place. He rubbed his throat delicately, finally taking note of the fact that the appearance of his school days was fitted to him once more. He croaked out.

"My name, is Lord Voldemort."

The figure once again took on the air of someone that was looking down on something particularly insignificant, but actually laughed slightly in what he could only assume was true amusement.

"Your name is Tom Riddle. Your title is Lord Voldemort. There is a difference. You are what you make yourself, but Tom Riddle is apart of that. Lord Voldemort is ruthless, and cruel, and honestly rather stupid. Tom Riddle is smart, cunning, sly. Voldemort may as well be—"

"Lord Voldemort was everything I wished to be! I made mistakes! I was reckless. But I will not let the same idiotic mishaps happen again."

He sneered darkly at the figure, looking directly toward where his eyes would be, a dare.

The man tilted his head softly with an almost gentle smile. "Was everything you wished you said? Do you not wish it still?"

Voldemort did nothing aside from the clenching of his teeth, but continued to look straight at the man. The figure lifted his head once more, expression shark like at the lack of answer.

"Your subconscious seems to be giving you advice Tom. Dare you listen to it?"

He ignored the words. "Who are you?" It was an order.

The figure smirked even wider. "I guess I'll tell you."

The hood was removed in one motion, quick, smooth, and confident, with an edge of cockiness.

"Hullo Tom. It's been a while since I've seen you. Not long since you've seen me though."

He stared, perhaps the universe had a glitch.

"Potter?"

"Well, I kinda go by Death now."

"Death," he sneered, "if you're going to annoy me Potter— "—Harry—" "—pardon me?"

"Harry. I think we've earned the right to be on a first name basis with each other Tom. Formality these days is a bore."

Voldemort scowled. "At least stop rambling and tell me something useful."

Harry's eyes narrowed and he marched forward a few steps. "I am trying to, you bumbling Idiot! You're just a prat that won't listen! I'm here to help you, give you advice on what to do next and what not. Sometimes, other things lead into a conversation!"

"Your eloquence astounds me."

Harry snarked. "Did you listen to anything I just said?"

Despite his tone Harry leaned back, casualty bleeding easily back into his features. "Besides, eloquence doesn't seem to suit me. That, I've found, is you Tom."

They both stood across from one another, staring hard as they tried to bore holes into the other's eyes.

He stopped and sighed. "Where is here anyway Potter?"

Harry, or rather, the boy, gave him a rather soft look. It was disgusting.

"I told you Tom, you died."

"….I don't want your pity."

"Then you shan't have it. But there is a difference between that, and understanding."

He rolled his eyes. "You sound like the old goat. And you do not fear death, I know this for a fact, I have seen you face it without a flinch. You walked to your death you silly boy, and then gave me a noble speech before… causing my own demise. How could you understand that?"

"I dunno, I analyze your character Tom. I empathize. And I'd say it wasn't personal but it kinda was. What with you trying to murder me since I was an infant."

"I was trying to eliminate a possible threat."

The boy snorts. "I know. I don't hold it against you. Anymore."

He raised a skeptical brow. "I highly doubt that."

Harry stepped forward roughly, something odd in his eyes. "Do you want me to?"

He gave the boy an odd look. "Potter, what in Merlin's name is wrong with you?"

He knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment he'd said it. Had he gotten so careless in his state of insanity? Truly was he dead? It seemed like it, this place didn't seem to anything good or bad though. He wasn't particularly religious, and never had been, but this empty space of absolute nothing was going to drive him mad. He supposed that that could be hell. He gave Harry a scrutinizing look, the boy's emotions has morphed away, a blank slate replacing them. He couldn't locate a thing anymore. He had noticed that the annoying brat had somehow managed to avoid his questions. Though now seemed a bad time to voice them again.

"Wrong? Why would you think that anything is wrong?" Harry smiled genially.

Voldemort felt something twist in his stomach. Fake, that was fake. Those were the kind of smiles he always gave, where the joy never really reached your eyes. Those were horrific smiles, and it was positively disturbing to see on one as carefree he'd believed Harry Potter to be. Obviously things had changed. He had many things, common sense and pride among those. He chose common sense and stepped back a bit warily.

"Harry," the name tasted weird on his tongue, "you've mistaken my meaning, perhaps my word choice was poor."

Voldemort wasn't sure whether it was possible to feel such malice in this dream like place, but the air of the other across him was palpable. For a second he thought that he had imagined it, because soon enough the boy was relaxed again and had a genuine grin on his face.

"Perhaps I did. Anyway, we really are getting quite distracted aren't we? I'm here to help you remember."

"And what, exactly are you?"

"I told you, I'm Death."

He nodded in rather weak agreement. "I'm finding harder and harder to deny. But why come here for little old me. I can't imagine you greet all of your lovely fans."

Harry smiled angelically. "Oh Tom, I am death, and even I can't go around unchecked."

The boy kneeled down to the floor gracefully, submissive in the sense of it, what with him being down on his knees, but still startlingly defiant in posture; his head remained firmly positioned looking up at him and the smirk just refused to depart his face. Once getting over this motion Voldemort resisted the urge to scrunch his brows.

"What."

"It's a pleasure to serve you my master, I've waited quite a while," Harry smiled up at him, "I have a lot to tell you Tom."

 **AN:** That was most likely the first in a line of one shots. I won't lie, not quite sure where I'm going yet. But we'll see what happens and go from there.


End file.
